 Dedicated to the strength of the nation. Proudly, we hail. Hail, starring MacDonald Kerry in Black Dust. A United States Army and United States Air Force presentation. And our hero is our producer, the well-known Hollywood showman, C.P. McGregor. Thank you, thank you very much, and greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to your Theatre of Stars. We're all the famous names and motion pictures. Join us in plays we know you'll enjoy. Our star is the very popular and capable actor, MacDonald Kerry. And the title of our story, Black Dust. We'll have the curtain for act one in just a moment. But first, here is your announcer. Choose the career that offers all five. The U.S. Army offers you these five keys to a successful future. One, a career of service to country. Two, the right job for you. Three, continuous training for planned advancement. Four, lifetime security. Five, travel and recreation. Yes, men, choose the career that offers all five. Find out about the five keys to a successful future at your nearest U.S. Army and U.S. Air Force recruiting station. Now once again, our producer. The curtain rises on act one of Black Dust, starring MacDonald Kerry as Dr. Philip Hender. In a great city of the world, a lofty edifice of hewn marble stood in ostentatious monument to the god Jehovah. It was there that Dr. Philip Hender, young and prematurely gray, spoke the service of the wondrous miracle each week of the numerical cycle of 52. Upon this night, the rain loosed across the darkened brow of the world like a slanting curtain of black lace. And Dr. Philip Hender walked and thought within the cloistered confining space of the rectory and then his feet were drawn by some ethereal, magnetic force through the wet, glistening streets to the house of Bishop Esop, the white-haired and venerable dean. And all the newfound determination within Dr. Philip Hender's soul crashed against the brass knocker plate of the door and waited. Good evening, sir. Oh, Dr. Hender. Well, gracious to goodness. I apologize for the hour, Bishop. Your apologies be hanged. What in the wide world are you doing out on a pouring, clammy night like this? Well, I... No bumbershoot, no rubbers squishing like a sponge. Come in, come in, come in before you catch your death. Thank you, sir. It is a bit wet. Never wetter since the flood. Miss Abbey! Miss Abbey! Bishop Esop. Whatever it is, can wait until we get you rung out. Miss Abbey! Please, sir, there's no reason for commotion. Cleanliness is next to godliness, doctor, but drowning oneself is overdoing it. Miss Abbey! Put a log on the lounge fire, bring some towels and my flannel wrapper. Oh, yes, and some strong hot tea. Did you hear me, Miss Abbey? I said, did you hear me? Miss Abbey's hearing is one of the most unpredictable phenomena of mortal function. Now, let us go into the lounge and examine your reasons for this self-inflicted subversion. Now, Doctor Hender, now that you've quite stopped steaming like a pot full of mussels, suppose we begin at the beginning. Very well, Bishop. I... I want a transfer. Yes, sir. I want to be transferred away from my church. You what? Doctor, you have come several miles through the worst storm of my recollection. You have it an unholy hour. You drip water on my rugs and you give me as a reason for this... this submarine pilgrimage. Do you want a transfer from your church? Yes, Bishop. That was my only reason for coming here. Doctor, are you feeling quite well? You have every appearance of a healthy man. I've never felt better in my life, physically. Spiritually, I've never felt worse. This is an admission of very grave consequence, my boy. I would much prefer you would set the reverse. Well, can you... can you tell me the why of this spiritual... debility, Doctor? Yes, I think I can, Bishop. It's a starvation, I believe. What? It may be difficult to understand what I really mean by that remark, spiritual starvation. Well, go on. Bishop, for six years of Sunday mornings, I've clothed myself in ministerial cloth. And I've looked into the faces of my people while I've spoken the words of the creation of God and His prophets, of His warnings and His promises. Yes. I've received many compliments on my eloquence. I've heard it said that Dr. Hender is a credit to his church and to his pulpit. That he presents an imposing and dignified sight with his straight back and rich timbre of voice. But in all those six years of Sunday mornings, I've yet to hear one word of the wondrous things of God, of the absolute perfection of Christ, of the infinite wisdom of His words. My congregation has been far more concerned not with what I said, but how I said it. They've been concerned with who wears what to my church and who contributes how much to my plate. Dr. Hender... Please, Bishop, I've watched their faces as obvious as the tides of the sea and I know that I've failed. Dr. Hender, I would say that that is an overstatement. No, Bishop. If anything, it's an understatement. And I want the chance, the opportunity to prove that I can succeed. But how? I want to take the word of God where the word of God has never been heard. I want to teach it, not for how it sounds, but for what it means, whether it be from a stump of a tree in a jungle or from the rail of a pasture. But beyond all else, I want it to be in a setting where God is needed and where no one else has the inclination to teach his works. Please, Bishop, can you find me such a place? I believe you are very sincere, Dr. Hender. I am. And I also believe I know of just such a place. Where? It's a little mining village of Kengaui, a doctor where in the last 50 years the records stay for any minister of the gospel has been 48 hours. In fact, some of them were nearly killed. You see, doctor, they do not want God in Kengaui. Where they don't want God, their God will be. Do you still want the transfer, Dr. Hender? More than anything else on earth. Thank you, Bishop Issape. I can be ready to leave in the morning. Clan Garwin, a staggering village of gutted hills, of half below and half above the earth, a village of rotting hobos of weatherboard and scrap tin, and people begrimed with a century of black dust, both without and within. Cole is the only God here, and the echoing caverns of the Great Pit, his only church. His prayers are cursing and foulness. His altar incense, the insidious black damp, and his only offerings, toil and sweat and death. Everyone and everything about Clan Garwin, even words, have the cutting abrasive feel of the dust. Here, no flowers, no song of birds. Here, even the light of the sun hangs like a grayish pawl. To this forsaken village, whether as neither God nor want for God, has come, Dr. Philip Hender, to find lodgings in the tottering house of old Mrs. Wembley, and to seek more than lodgings, but rather a home in the hearts of his fellow men. Well, you can think what you're a mind to, Dr. Hender. All I've got to say is you're a fool. Perhaps, Mrs. Wembley, perhaps, but even a fool may have his faith. Clan Garwin ain't got no room for faith or its likes, Dr. Hender. If it ain't Cole, it don't belong here. You know, Mrs. Wembley, faith and Cole have two things in common. They both burn and they both give light. I'm hoping that because of this similarity, perhaps there might be room in Clan Garwin for both. That's the same as tying fancy ribbons around a parcel of garbage. No, I can use the money you're paying me a week right enough. No more's the pity. I'll see only one week of it. Quite on the contrary, Mrs. Wembley. I intend to pay you a full month in advance. No, no, you don't. Take it from me. You'll not be here near a month. Two days is more like it. Oh? And I've still got me conscience, even if it is precious little. I was a churchgoer once myself, I'll have you know. Once, Mrs. Wembley? I was as good a Christian as you'd want to find. Go on to church every Sunday and put me pennies in the box. But there ain't nothing in Clan Garwin to make us all want to stay, Christian. There is now, Mrs. Wembley, there's another Christian, which means two of us. And tomorrow we'll both go to church. Church? In Clan Garwin? Yes, I've rented the mule barn for tomorrow morning. Mule barn? Yes, I don't believe the good Lord will be offended by a few mules in our congregation. We'll sing hymns and I'll preach the best I know how. Preach into an old frump like me in a pack of mules. Well, I said he was a fool right enough. There might be more than just you and the mules, Mrs. Wembley. I, uh, nailed an invitation on the door of the mine shack a little while ago. An invitation for all good people to come to church. You did what? Yes. You know, in this, uh, modern age it pays to advertise even for a church. And who knows? Tomorrow morning we might surprise the mules when the congregation will rise to sing the church's one foundation. Read it again, Morgan! It's the best I've heard since Bully Wilson's comical stories. It's a good thing that Morgan can read. I hate to miss this. He should have drawn pictures for the likes of us. Maybe all he can draw is flies. All right, all right. In the King's English it says, tomorrow morning at 11 o'clock, all are kindly invited to attend divine services to be held in the Davies mule bath. Sign, sign. Dr. Philip Hender. Oh, that's what I'd call a great night's invitation. Something like the King's ball. Wait, wait, wait, you bet. I'd say let's make a day of it. Let's go to the mule bath. Be in a curious nature. I've always wanted to see the difference between a mine mule and a jackass. We pause briefly from our story, Black Dust, starring McDonnell Kerry to bring you an important message from our government. Planning for the future is mighty important to a young man with ability and ambition. If you're one of these fellows, look to the future as an officer in the United States Air Force. A flying career as a pilot or navigator or a non-flying career in a wide variety of interesting fields can be yours. To qualify and be selected for training, you must meet certain age, educational and physical standards. On completion of training, you'll earn your reserve commission and have many opportunities to earn a regular commission while on active duty. Here's your opportunity for a future that's exciting and challenging. Get all the facts on the important assignments awaiting you and the many other reasons why being an officer in the U.S. Air Force can mean so much to your future. Visit your nearest U.S. Army and U.S. Air Force Recruiting Station for complete information right away. Certain rises on Act 2 of Black Dust, starring McDonnell Kerry as Dr. Philip Hender. Twenty centuries ago, the most sublime and perfect service of divinity began in the House of Kettle in the lowliest of stables in another small village where godlessness obscured the sun and the hands and the hearts of men. And now 2,000 years later, on this morning an unaccustomed sound shattered through the torpor of Clangarwin, the on-tuned dissonance of metal against brass. A cowbell swung in astronomical circles by the enthusiastic arm of Dr. Philip Hender. My dear friends, we have gathered here today before God to claim our right before him in the sanctuary of his benevolence and his boundless and infinite promise of forgiveness. Oh, hallelujah! Perhaps the mathematical orbits of the stars, perhaps the infinite will of God have led our way hither to this this regal stall of mules. But I believe fully and sincerely that his word preached from a note box in such humble surroundings as these is less from the pulpit and more from the Bible. But now, it's more than gratifying to see all of you here. Oh, thank you! I thank you on his behalf. We have no hymn books, I believe it almost certain that many of you will remember from your childhood circle the hymn Rock of Ages. Mrs. Wembley, will you sound the pitch pipe? Now, please, within your hearts. If you don't remember the words, hum the song. Rock of Ages cleft for me Let me hide myself in thy sight That's what the skunk said. Oh, God, in thy name we ask it. Will thou bring peace and the serenity of thy son the Christ? Watch this for a bit, though. Under those people who need thee, oh, God the Father. Pardon me, God. I have a little business at hand. Who threw that tomato? I said who threw that tomato? I did, sky pilot. And what would you like to make of it? You mind telling me your name? I, Joy Morgan, preacher. And now that you know it, what of it? Mr. Morgan, I can find no arguments, nor strength for arguments when you defile me. But when you defile God... Look here, preacher, you've heard of a committee, ain't you? Yes. Well, I'm a committee of one sea. I'm rightly telling you that you don't belong here. You and your holier than thou talk. Your God's done nothing for us here, and we ain't asking Him to. And we don't want none of your kind standing around on street corners and mule bags. Look, my friend, you had the chance to throw that tomato while I was talking to you. You didn't do it. You didn't have the courage. Or to make it bluntly the guts. You waited until I was praying to our Father in heaven. Why don't you call down the thunder and lightning you preachers are always talking about, huh? Perhaps you've never heard of the flogger in the temple. Perhaps I can emulate his performance. Oh, look at him! Oh, you want to play that way, do you? Think you're a roughneck, do you? I'll drill your neck into the ground like a vain cutter you whimpering sob of a sky preacher. What's this? Oh, look at him. He's up again. Not for long, he ain't. What if he keeps this time? Oh, look at him coming up again, Morgan. Put that poop to him, Morgan. Right, oh, right, oh, my lads. What say we all go baptize ourselves in a pint of flaming brew, huh? We leave this cove to his miracles. I hear the story once about a bloke named Lazarus getting raised from the dead. You were the fool. Now lie back while I tide this steak around your bruised eye. I hang the steak on my bruised eye, Mrs. Wembley. Broil it, I say, with a bit of sauce. You're not thinking of going back to the mule barn for church next Sunday, are you, Dr. Hendo? Now, it best be packing your things. We'll hold church again next Sunday, Mrs. Wembley. You're a fool, doctor. That Morgan will kill you. Perhaps. But men have been killed for less, Mrs. Wembley. I want you to know. Oh, God of heaven. What is it? What are the whistles? Oh, mind. There's a blow, a cave, a fire. Whatever it is, there's men down below. Oh, it's God striking. That's what it is. It's God striking. God doesn't strike that way, Mrs. Wembley. Now get hold of yourself. Mrs. Wembley. Mrs. Wembley, listen. Fill all the pots you have in the house with water to boil. Rip up sheets and get me all the tallow and fat and grease you can find. All the things, Mrs. Wembley, remember where there is God, there is strength. Who's the skip boss? Me, preachers. Me, Morgan, but there ain't nothin' to be done. Who's down below? Only me, son, Davy. Where damp was slow come in, the canaries died. We knew it was comin'. Davy was trapped in number three level. Here's me kid, preacher, the only kid I've got. What are the miners waiting for? Why don't they go down after him? Number three is Caven, preacher. And the black damp is creepin' like a fog of 84. You're going to leave him down there? What else can we do? There's no man who can live down there for 30 seconds. Give me a lamp and a line. Clear me to the skip boss. I'm the skip boss, as I've said. What do you want? Drop me to number three level. I'm going down after Davy. No, no, you can't do it, preacher. No man could live down there. That's a chance I'll take. You're going down alone, preacher? No. No, I'm going down with a friend. A friend called God. Now drop away, Morgan. And give me the full cable slack. Drop away! Home of the serpentine driftings and stoves, Philip Hender sought the elusive tap of a wedging hammer, buried somewhere within the fault of suffocating tons of black weight, and the seeping, sulfurous death of the black damp. The minutes merge into hours, and the tears above fell like the seepage below. And then the skip signal rang out with the jarring signal of victory, and the oil cables hissed across the revolving drums in a race from the earthen bowels to the gate of the mineshaft. Davy! Davy! He's going to live, doctor. Long enough to watch your bones crackle and die, Mr. Morgan. Thank you. Thank you, Dr. Hender. No, not me, Mr. Morgan. Let's both thank God. You see, I said I wasn't going down the shaft alone. Two of us went down, Mr. Morgan. Three of us came back. From the mule barn where the air was full of the smell of oats and hay, a strange dissonance probed the sleeping village of Clangarwin. It was Sunday morning, you see, and Dr. Philip Hender was setting his muscles with the swing of the brass cowbell, which, saying in a discordant tune, come to church all good people. And the mule barn was filled even to the stalls. Once I was afraid of Clangarwin, because I felt I was alone. But I have learned that no man, wherever he may be, or however he may be, can be alone with faith. This is the happiest moment of my life. Beneath the black dust of Clangarwin, I have at last found God. Paul's in the final act of black dust. Our star, MacDonald Kerry, will return for a curtain call after this timely message from Wendell Niles. Valuable professional assignments in the Army Medical Department are now available to a limited number of young doctors. In these positions, doctors have a chance to work closely with top specialists in the various fields of medicine, and keep abreast of the newest developments and the finest modern medical equipment. In addition to regular pay and allowances, they receive $100 per month professional pay for details right to the Surgeon General, Department of the Army, Washington, 25 D.C. Now, once again, our star and our producer. MacDonald Kerry is no newcomer to our microphone, but being one of the busiest stars in Hollywood, his visits are all too few. Well, thanks, CP. But the important thing to me is that I get invitations to come back. Mac, you're one of our favorites here, and I certainly agree with Earl Wilson that you're one of the top stars of 1949 and 50. Well, thanks. Now, just to support my claims about you being busy, how many have you got to be released? Well, about six of them. Why not give our listeners a few of your recent picture titles? All right, the ones that are out this month are one for Paramount called The Song of Surrender with Wanda Hendricks and Claude Reigns, and one for Universal International called South Sea Center with Shelley Winters. What was the name of that title? South Sea Center. Good alliteration, if I can say it. That's good enunciation practice. Incidentally, I think our audience would be interested in that mystery story you were doing. United Artists will release this one. It's called The Man with My Face. That should give you a rather large personal interest in it. It does. First of all, he's got my face, so I do both parts. What's the story about? This is about a man who comes home on the suburban train and finds out at the beginning that there's something wrong. His wife doesn't meet him at the station, so he calls her and she thinks he's annoying her, so she threatens to tell her husband. But he's her husband. Yeah, sure, but he goes home. And hanging in the closet as he comes in the hall is an identical top coat and hat with the one he has on. And sitting in the living room are his best friends, his business partner and wife. Then, here comes a man wearing an identical suit of clothes and having the same face as he has. There's a situation. Well, what happens? Well, that's CP. He is the mystery. You'll have to see it to find out. Oh, I will see it. Well, Mac, thanks for that little preview. You're welcome, CP. I suppose you give me your preview for next week. Next week, Mac, and ladies and gentlemen, we're going to bring you a bright comedy starring William Lundigan, titled Ellen and Prince Charming. Bill really gets into trouble when his wife wins a radio jackpot. I'll have to hear that. Sounds like a good one. So long, CP. Goodbye, Mac. We should have joined us next week, ladies and gentlemen, when William Lundigan will star in a radio jackpot story, Ellen and Prince Charming. Until then, thanks for listening and cheeriole from Hollywood. Donald Kerry appeared through the courtesy of the Hollywood Coordinated Committee, which arranges for the appearance of all stars on this program. The script was by Kimball S. Sant with the music of Eddie Dunstetter. This program was transcribed in Hollywood for release at this time. Wendell Niles speaking.